


What a F*!%ing Mess

by fuzzballsheltiepants



Series: A Mewment Like This [8]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Bad Flirting Via Text, Law Student!Andrew, M/M, Rape mention re: Robin, Reference to Robin Cross' backstory, Seriously These Boys Need Help, Which is different from Nora's version
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 16:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14937716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzballsheltiepants/pseuds/fuzzballsheltiepants
Summary: Andrew's stress level is mounting, so he makes an appointment with Bee and then talks to Attorney Abby Winfield.  But he still can't figure out what to do about Neil.





	What a F*!%ing Mess

**Author's Note:**

> In this version Robin is a witness (read: victim) in a case Andrew is helping prosecutor Abby prepare for trial. Andrew and Abby both reference what happened to Robin. DM me if you want to know more details before reading. This one is more a series of short scenes that show how Andrew's days tend to go.
> 
> Thanks as always to @tntwme for the beta! Also to @Beka2305 for her input into the plausibility of the law office dialogue.

Andrew groaned as he slapped his hand blindly for his alarm.  He always woke up easily but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.  Rescheduling Renee had given him an extra hour of sleep, not that his body seemed to acknowledge it.  At least he hadn’t dreamed, an unexpected blessing after having to deal with Neil’s panic attack last night.  Maybe that disgusting tea had actually helped.  
  
Sir tried to kill him on his way into the bathroom by materializing out of thin air into a sixteen pound roadblock.  “If I break my neck, you’ll starve to death,” he told the cat.  Sir stared unblinkingly back.  “Yeah, yeah, you’ll just eat my body, I know, you ungrateful little bastard.”  
  
He could have sworn the cat smiled at him.  Fucker.  
  
A shower, two cups of coffee, and a chocolate chip bagel later and he was feeling vaguely close to human.  On the subway he checked his texts.  Nicky apologizing for the umpteenth time, he needed to email a file for work, and three dots under Neil’s name.  Nothing new was forthcoming, and by the time he was at the DA’s office the dots had disappeared.  He wondered what Neil had been going to say.  
  
Their conversation chased him throughout the day.  Every little break in work had him thinking about it, wondering what piece he was missing that had triggered Neil so badly.  On his lunch break he googled Neil Josten.  The only thing that came up was that name on a list of University of Massachusetts online program graduates from the year before.  His eyebrows went up: Neil had a Masters in Applied Linguistics.  That was…unexpected.  Though not quite as unexpected as the fact that he could find no sign anywhere that he’d earned a Bachelor’s, or even a high school diploma.  Or his complete and utter lack of social media presence.  
  
He wanted to keep digging but his lunch was over.  The afternoon was spent reviewing the recorded statements the main witness had given up to this point.  She was coming in this week for witness counseling, and so far she had been unwilling to add more to the initial police statement.  They certainly had enough physical evidence, but Winfield was convinced the defense was going to try to plea the guy to a lesser charge.  If this girl could give them something more, anything… He listened to the recordings again, and remembered.  
  
*****  
  
Betsy’s office was a haven from the chill precipitation outside that was unable to decide if it was rain or sleet or snow.  She smiled at him in greeting and handed him a mug of hot chocolate.  His fingers curled reflexively around it, feeling the ridges of the embossed bee on the surface.  All her mugs had bees or flowers on them, her little joke.  “How was your day?” she asked, settling into her chair.  
  
“It’s sleeting, I’m still working on that fucking case, I called you for an extra session and I’ve had seven hours of sleep in the last two days.  How do you think it was?”  
  
“Let’s tackle that in order, shall we?”  While Bee picked up her pen, Andrew sank into the couch, the familiarity of their routine allowing him a deeper breath.  “Are you using the therapy lights?”  
  
“You didn’t tell me the light would prevent it from sleeting.”  She waited for his real answer.  “I hate waking up that way, and I’m not usually home for very long in the morning.”  
  
“Why do you hate waking up like that?”  
  
“It makes me jittery all day.”  
  
Bee hummed.  “That’s uncommon but not unheard of.  Okay, let’s discontinue that.  I’ll look into some other options, and at least the days are getting longer.  Now.  The case.”  
  
Andrew didn’t try to hide his sigh.  They spent twenty minutes discussing Andrew’s concerns about the witness.  “Do you think you’re going to talk to the attorney?”  
  
“I don’t see why she’d listen to me.”  
  
“You have a perspective on this I am betting none of the other people working the case do.  Believe it or not, Andrew, that experience is valuable.”  
  
“That degree of positive thinking is nauseating, even for you.”  
  
Her eyes crinkled up in her warm smile.  “You don’t need to tell her why you have the opinion you do.  You can be quite persuasive when you want to be.”  
  
“Pretty much everybody I know would disagree with you on that.”    
  
“Do you want to talk more about that, or do you want to discuss the sleeping?”  
  
“I slept last night, just got to bed too late.  It was the night before.”  
  
“What happened?”  She took a sip of her hot chocolate; he mirrored her.  It was nearly cold, but the familiar sweetness coating his tongue was oddly grounding.  
  
“It’s not dreams.”  She nodded and made a note.  For the first year they had worked together, dreams had driven him from sleep more often than not.  “I just couldn’t fall asleep.”  
  
“What was on your mind?”  
  
He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell her about Neil, if talking about him would strip away that unworldly character to him, would make him seem real.  He didn’t know if he wanted him to be real.  A part of him preferred the concept of Neil as a fiction, a dream, an Escher drawing he could study and walk away from.  Except he had been sucked into the world of never ending staircases and surreal symmetry and he wasn’t sure he could leave.  
  
“Neil.”  She gave him a trademark Bee look; he waved his hand in dismissal.  “Met him when I took the cat to the vet.  We had coffee.  Dinner a couple of times.  Turns out he’s friends with Nicky.”  
  
“Sex?”  She knew his pattern.  
  
“No.  He’s not interested.”  That goddamn pen made another note.    
  
“But you’ve continued to spend time with him.”  
  
“That’s not the point.”  
  
“It’s still interesting.”  She leaned forward slightly in her chair, and her eyes had that look in them, that Bee gleam they got when she was excited about something.  “When was the last time you spent time with someone who wasn’t Nicky or someone you were sleeping with?”  
  
“I do it all the fucking time.”  
  
“I’m not counting something to do with school.  Or Renee.”  
  
He wished for a cigarette but Bee would throw him out if he lit up in here.  “What’s your point?”  
  
“Why him?”  
  
“He doesn’t make sense.  I think he’s a pathological liar.”  
  
“So are a lot of people.  You usually can’t be bothered with them.”  
  
Damnit.  Damn _her_.  He took his cigarettes out, tapped the box, tucked them back in.  “Most liars are boring and predictable.”  
  
Another scratch of the pen.  “And he’s not?”  Andrew inclined his head in silent agreement.  “Why did you stay up the other night worrying about him?”  
  
“I didn’t.  I spent the first part of the night fucking Chris, the second part of the night wondering.  Not worrying.”  He didn’t mention last night.  Making sure Neil was okay last night wasn’t the same as worrying about him.  Andrew would have done the same for anyone he was talking to who suddenly went incoherent.  
  
“Leaving alone the fact that if you’re wondering enough to keep from sleeping there’s at least some concern there, why Chris?  I thought you were annoyed with him.”  
  
“He’s annoying.”  
  
She laughed.  He could never quite predict what would make her laugh.  “So why him?  Why not Roland or Jason?”  
  
“Jason’s lovely wife found out he was fucking men on the side.  And Roland asks too many questions.”  Roland would have picked up that he was distracted, that he was feeling a slender frame and lean muscle under his hands, tasting a different mouth, hearing moans in a different voice.  Maybe Chris noticed, maybe not; he never cared either way.  Andrew didn’t need to say any of this.  Bee knew.    
  
Bee cocked her head to the side and studied him for a long moment.  “What makes you think Neil is a pathological liar?”  
  
Andrew shrugged.  His fingers started to stray to the pocket with his cigarettes again and he stopped himself.  He hated it when his movements betrayed him.  “Just a feeling.”  She waited for more.  “He edits himself all the time.”  
  
“There’s a difference between lying to protect oneself and being a pathological liar.  He may well have a reason to be careful about what he says.  You of all people should be able to understand that.”  
  
“Oh, Bee, you’re lacking in subtlety today.”  
  
“I wasn’t aiming for subtle.”  
  
“Time’s almost up.”  
  
She laughed again.  “What are you going to do about Neil?”  
  
Andrew stood and slipped on his jacket.  “I’m going to figure him out, and then I’m going to move on.”  
  
He didn’t like the smile Bee gave him in response.  It reminded him too much of Renee.  
  
*****  
  
On the subway, he finally checked the texts Neil had sent him during the day.  I _’m sorry about last night.  That doesn’t usually happen_.    
  
He thought about Bee’s comments on lying.  _Howre you going to make it up to me_  
  
There was a long pause and he was close to his stop when Neil’s reply came through.  _I could teach you how to use punctuation_.   
  
The laugh burst out before he could prevent it.  Nobody on the train even glanced his way.  _That seems like a poor reward.  When_  
  
 _Tomorrow night?_  
  
 _Won’t have time.  Maybe Thursday.  Or this weekend.  I’ll let you know._  
  
 _;)_  
  
He stared at the little winky face for a moment, then shoved his phone back into his pocket.  He really was going to have to murder Nicky.  Or maybe Neil’s coworkers.  He doubted Neil figured out emoticons by himself.  Therefore, someone had to be responsible for teaching him.  That someone must pay.  
  
*****  
  
Andrew knocked on the door jamb of Attorney Winfield’s office.  She looked up and gave him a warm smile.  “You finished already?  You’re a miracle.”  He came in and handed her the paper he’d been working on; she glanced it over then set it on a pile of some others.  When he didn’t leave, she sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.  “Did you want to talk to me about something?”  
  
“The witness.  Robin.  You’re never going to get her to talk the way you’re going.”  
  
Her smile disappeared.  “What do you mean?”  
  
“This whole ‘gentle comforting’ thing is not going to work for her.  She knows it’s bullshit.”  
  
“Your last externship was at the Child and Family Center, right?”  Andrew nodded.  “Is that how they’re coaching people now?”  
  
Andrew snorted.  “Hardly.”  
  
“Look, Andrew, your ability to cut through the facts to piece together the legal issues at play is impressive, but this is a very delicate situation.  We have a protocol for dealing with these witnesses for a reason.  I don’t want to traumatize her any more than I have to.”  
  
His ears popped as he gritted his jaw.  “She’s already traumatized.  Lying to her about how easy court is going to be is not going to help her, and it’s not going to get her to talk.  Every kid can google this now, she’s probably read a hundred stories about the horrors of being on the witness stand.  She already knows you’re not being honest about it.”  When she didn’t reply, he turned on his heel and left the room.  
  
Abby found him outside, huddled under the overhang against the chill drizzle that had been falling all day.  “So what do I need to say to get her to talk?”  
  
“Think about it from her perspective.”  He took a final drag on his cigarette and dropped the butt on ground.  “Her cousin raped her every week for six months and her parents didn’t know?  I call bullshit.  Willful ignorance is not the same as not knowing.”  
  
“These psychopaths can be very clever.”  
  
“Yeah, they’re great at convincing everyone that they’re charming nice guys.  They’re not so good at hiding the fact that this girl had to wash her fucking sheets every week.  What thirteen year old kid does that?”  Abby was silent.  “They’re not so good at hiding that their victims change.  They might make it look like they don’t understand when suddenly their victim cringes away from them or won’t meet their eye.  Or why suddenly the victim’s grades drop.  Why their friends drift away.”    
  
“You pulled that from her parents’ statements.”  
  
Andrew nodded.  “They knew something was wrong, but they didn’t want to know what it was.  If they wanted to see it, they would have.”  
  
“Do you actually believe that?”  Abby’s voice was soft.  He wondered, not for the first time, how she survived as a prosecutor.  She seemed too kind for this dark and sordid corner of the law.  
  
He shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter what I believe, but I’ll bet it’s what she thinks.  And now she thinks you’re doing the same thing about putting her on the stand.”  
  
He had turned to go inside when Abby stopped him.  “She’s coming by after school to meet with me again.  Do you want to listen in?”  
  
His fingers were almost numb from the cold; he could barely feel the door handle where he had wrapped them around it.  “Yes.”  
  
*****  
  
Andrew really hated it when Bee was right.  Now he was going to have to tell her, and then watch her as she struggled not to be smug about it.  She was too self aware to pull off smug, but sometimes it got the best of her anyway.  
  
Abby Winfield surprised him.  He was starting to think he wasn’t as good at predicting behavior as he’d always believed.  She welcomed the witness and her mother into her office, offered her a soda, then opened with, “One of our student externs informed me that you’re too smart to buy into the whole ‘we’re going to make this as easy as we can’ line.  So I’m going to be up front with you.  This entire process sucks.  You don’t need to be present for most of it, but we do encourage you to testify in person as the jury is more likely to convict if you do.  The defense is going to try to make out like it was consensual—like you agreed to sex—most likely, and try to get away with a lesser statutory charge.  They may even plea for it, offering keeping you off the stand as a bargaining chip.”    
  
The girl made an involuntary-sounding noise and her mother started to say something.  Abby interrupted.  “All due respect, Mrs. Cross, this is up to Robin.”  There was a pause before Abby went on.  “The difference in prison time could be two and a half years for statutory, versus twenty for rape.  I want the twenty.  If I could get him put away for life, I would.  But it’s up to you.  If you don’t want to testify—and it’s going to be brutal, I’m not going to lie—I will still do everything I can to win.  I may have enough, I certainly have all the doctors’ reports and your written statements.  We can do video testimony too.”  
  
When the girl spoke, her voice was so quiet Andrew had to turn up the volume to hear her at first.  “But it’s better if I’m there.”  
  
“Yes.  Juries are more likely to take live testimony seriously.”  
  
The witness didn’t say anything more, and Abby began going through the whole trial process, including when her testimony would be used and what they could expect from the defense attorney.  At the end, the girl said, “I’ll do it.  But you can’t accept any kind of deal.”    
  
Andrew didn’t have to see Abby to know what kind of smile she was wearing.  
  
*****  
  
He didn’t know why he did it.  For some reason, his feet just carried him off the subway a stop early.  It’s after eight, he argued with himself as he pulled out his phone and called up Neil’s text window and started typing.  _U around_  
  
 _Yeah. Want to come over?  I have some question marks I can spare._  
  
 _B there in 5_  
  
 _And some vowels.  See you then_.  
  
As soon as Neil let him in he headed for the fridge.  “Did you eat?” Neil asked.  Andrew didn’t answer, just rifled through until he found a beer.  Belgian white, Nicky’s favorite; it would do, though not as efficiently as whiskey.    
  
He opened the beer against the kitchen counter and then dropped on the couch.  Neil was still hovering in the kitchen, face tight.  Andrew rolled his eyes.  “I ate.  Let me guess.  You had oatmeal.”  
  
“Chicken.”  Neil said as he joined him.  “You okay?”  
  
“I’m always okay.”  All right, fine, Bee had a point about lying.  “Tired.”  
  
“Want to talk?”  
  
Andrew shook his head and took another swig of his beer.  Neil just tucked his feet up underneath him and pulled his computer onto his lap.  The cat slunk out of the bedroom, giving Andrew a wide berth, then jumped up onto the arm of the couch and crept onto Neil’s shoulder.  He reached up absentmindedly to stroke her cheek and Andrew could hear her purring from across the couch.    
  
 _What is this_.  Neil’s hair was falling into his eyes as he looked down at the screen, the strange light playing across the planes of his face.  His lips moved silently as he read.  People were talking outside, indistinct voices that sounded like background music.  Neil glanced up from the computer and gave a small, soft smile when he met Andrew’s eyes.  There was no sign of the bleakness that sometimes haunted him, just humor and a subtle kindness.  Andrew pressed his knuckles against the ache in his chest.  He needed to leave.  He needed to leave now, before this got worse.  
  
His head dropped back against the couch.  A few more minutes of this.  Just a few more.  Then he could find the strength to get to his feet.  
  
The talking outside faded, and Neil didn’t look away.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so flattered this little series continues to talk to people. Thank you so much for comments! I'm trying to work my way through them to reply, but I have read each and every one and love them all. <3


End file.
